


God's Way of Remaining Anonymous

by Mel1



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Returns, Bucky Barnes in Bucharest, Gen, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel1/pseuds/Mel1
Summary: Steve gets a text to come to Bucharest.





	God's Way of Remaining Anonymous

_Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous_ _–_ _Albert Einstein._ __  
  


 

A/N: I started writing this as soon as the first spoilers for Civil War came out. So it’s been a couple of years, at least.

 

 ☆☆ ★★ ☆☆

 

_The cryptic text, punctuated with a star, was anonymous and untraceable._

_Bucharest 6-May 1600hrs Calea Victoriei 47_ ⍟

But Steve knew what it meant.

☆☆ ★★ ☆☆

"What are we doing here, again?" Sam asked, over the phone.

"You want me to say 'following a hunch', don't you?" Steve said. He was walking across Revolutionary Square in Bucharest, Romania, headed for Kretzulescu Church, a narrow, red brick building with a series of narrow archways in the front and two single file belfries on the roof.

It was _Calea Victoriei 47,_ the address that had been texted to him.

"It's a hunch or a trap, Steve. You know that. You've got no proof that this was from Barnes or that it has anything to do with him. No proof at all."

"Maybe not. But I have to be sure."

"You don't even know who -- or what -- you're looking for, other than a three hundred year old church."

Steve had just gotten to the top of the church's front stairs when a man emerged from behind one of the archways. His dark hair was pushed back under a baseball cap, and he was wearing more layers of jacket, shirt, t-shirt and gloves than the mild weather called for.

But he was looking a whole lot better than the last time Steve had seen him.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

"He's there?"

"Yeah. Keep me on GPS."

"I will. Is Stark’s little translator bug working okay?”

“So far.”

“Be careful."

“I will.” Steve ended the call and walked up to the man. " _Bucky._ "

"You're here. Let's go." That was all the greeting Steve got as Bucky turned to walk quickly along the side of the church toward the back.

"You sent that message? Why?" Steve asked, getting in step beside him.

"Looking for me, right?"

"Yeah, for two _years._ "

They reached the back of the church where an old Ford Explorer sat. An older, skinny, teenage boy was setting a large, covered box onto the back seat.

Bucky called out, addressing the boy. "Grigore, l-ai luat?" and ‘Stark’s little bug’ translated for Steve: _Grigore, did you get it?_

"Ya. Aici," the boy answered, gesturing to the box. _Yes, it_ _’_ _s right here._ He held a thin fold of money out to Bucky. “Ia asta.” _Take this._

Bucky shook his head. “Nu, am destul.”  _No, I have enough._

The boy gestured with the money. “Nu, ai nevoie de ea. Ia asta.” _No, you need it. Take this._

After another hesitation, Bucky took the money and tucked it into his jeans pocket. “Multumesc.” _Thank you._

The boy gave Steve an appraising look then got into the car next to the box and shut the door.

"Get in," Bucky told Steve. "It's not far."

So Steve got in the passenger side and Bucky slid behind the wheel and barreled them into the stream of traffic that seemed to have a dozen lanes full of cars each in a race to get somewhere different. Other drivers blasted their horns and hurled Romanian profanity at them that Bucky didn't seem to notice.

"So, you are Steve?" the boy asked. He leaned toward the front seat but kept his arm tight over the cardboard box.  "You are -- " He looked from Steve to Bucky to Steve again. " -- old Steve?"

Steve glanced from the boy, Grigore, to Bucky. "Yeah, I'm 'old’ Steve,'" he said. He grinned at the description. "You've heard about me?"

"Oh, yes. We have heard much about you. Stingher has told us you know him."

"Stingher?" Steve asked, even as the bug translated for him. _Lonely._

"Yes, Stingher." The boy jerked his head toward Bucky.

"Nu-mi spune că," Bucky muttered. _Don't call me that_. Grigore ignored him.

"You are Steve, this is good. He doesn’t sleep, you know?"

"Vezi-ti de treaba ta, Grigore," Bucky said, growling the words out, _mind your own business_ , but Grigore only laughed.

"So, where're we going?" Steve asked.  He looked at Bucky; if he needed sleep, it didn't show.

"It's not far."

"We are going to Ferentari," Grigore said. "It's a garden palace, you'll love it."

In ten minutes or less they turned a corner and slowed down and Steve turned his attention to the neighborhood they were entering. The stark and tattered buildings were a startling contrast to the busy, beautiful city they'd only just been in.

"What is this place?" he asked as Bucky pulled around the back of an old apartment building in a neighborhood of old buildings. They stopped at a large cement shed with a garage door.

"This is Ferentari," Grigore said again. "Cultural center of Bucharest."

"We get out here," Bucky said. He got out and opened the back door and reached in to grab the box.

"Pot purta," Grigore said, holding the box tighter. _I can carry it._

Bucky shook his head and held out the car keys. "Condu masina la garaj." _Put the car in the garage._

Grigore took the keys and handed over the box and Steve wondered what was in it. It was too small for rifles, big enough for grenades, and Bucky seemed particular about its safety.

"What is this place?" he asked again as Bucky led them toward a door in the back of the apartment building.  There was no activity in the area beside Grigore pulling the car into the garage.

"Ferentari," Bucky said, and that was all he said, as he punched open the door with his left shoulder. 

He led Steve through a bare hallway, up an open, metal stairwell, around a corner and down another hallway. He stopped briefly at a door, kicking it twice.

"Alimente, mânca," he called, f _ood, eat,_ then turned to the door just across the hall. He tucked the box under one arm and with the other hand pulled out a key and unlocked the door. He let Steve in first and left the door open.

The single room apartment had probably been nice once, but now the faded wallpaper was peeling and the cupboards over the sink were missing their doors. The room was filled tightly but neatly with a short sofa, a kitchen table and two chairs, and a refrigerator and countertop stove. A sleeping bag laid out over a mattress on the floor in front of the sofa marked the bedroom. 

"You live here?" Steve asked.

Bucky didn’t answer. He set the box on the table then tossed off his cap and gloves and hung his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. He'd no sooner pulled the top off the box than a group of boys swarmed through the open door. They pushed past Steve and pushed past Bucky and reached into the box and pulled out --

Pizza boxes. Pizza Hut pizza boxes.

Four boys in the group of nine or ten each grabbed a box and rushed out of the apartment, the rest of the boys following. The last boy tried to make a dash with two pizza boxes but Bucky grabbed one back from him.

"Mea, a mea," he said without heat, _mine, mine,_ and pushed the boy toward the door. Laughing, the boy carried his prize away and pulled the door shut as he left.

"Friends of yours?" Steve asked. 

Bucky still didn't answer. He set the pizza on the table and pulled a handful of paper napkins and two drink containers out before he set the carry-box on the floor.

"It's safe," he said, gesturing to the table and Steve wondered if he was referring to the table, the chairs, or the pizza. He wasn't sure he was hungry, but Bucky was looking at him as though waiting for him to make the first move, so he sat in the closest chair and Bucky opened the pizza box and pushed it to him. “Mânca. Um -- _eat_.”

It was cheese pizza with ham and pineapple. It tasted good but before Steve could say that, Grigore came in. He walked to the table and grabbed his own slice of pizza.

“Is good, yes?” he asked Steve. “Stingher, he worried you not like so much. But you like it, yes?”

“Yes, I do,” Steve answered, looking at Bucky who was eating his own pizza and staring at the table top. “I’ve never tried pizza with pineapple before.”

“I told him, is not the food, is the company, yes? Mamă says all food is better when it is friends who eat it.  But Stingher, he no think this. He think he need to find out what kind you like, but he no can find out.”

"’Find out?’ Who did you ask?" Steve asked. Bucky lifted his head but Grigore answered first.

"Internet.”

“The internet?” 

“Yes. Internet. There is wifi in Victory Square. Stingher has spent much time there. On the internet." 

But it wasn’t Bucky’s internet connection that Steve was surprised about.

"You tried to find out what kind of pizza I like? Who has information like that?" He assumed Bucky had found the SHIELD info-dump and he wondered if that would’ve mentioned his pizza preferences.

Grigore looked at Bucky like he was finally going to let him answer, but Bucky only took another bite of his pizza and went back to staring at the table.

“There’s much talk about you, on the internet,” Grigore said. “You didn’t know? People see you, they talk about it. They talk much about you. You eat shawarma, yes? Someone saw you eating shawarma and they talked about it for a long time. There is shawarma in Bucharest but I get good deal for pizza, so we get pizza.”

He stopped talking then and ate his pizza, turning his head back and forth, looking between Bucky and Steve like he expected one of them to start talking, but Steve wasn’t sure what to say and Bucky was still chewing.

Grigore sighed and rolled his eyes. He pushed the last bit of his pizza into his mouth and wiped his hands against each other.

“You are Steve, this is good,” he said after he swallowed. “Good that you came. Stingher, I think he no think you come. It’s good you came.”

“Grigore,” Bucky said, low and growling. Grigore put his hands up and shrugged.

“I go. I am not wanting to be agasant, you know? I go.” _Annoying._ He walked to the door to leave the apartment but just as he was about to close it he turned back. “He doesn’t sleep,” he said again, in a stage whisper, and pulled the door shut before Bucky could say anything to him.

Bucky turned to Steve, not quite looking at him. “I sleep,” he muttered. He reached for another slice of pizza and took a bite of it. He chewed thoughtfully. "It must be odd, being with me."

"I think the oddest thing is that two WWII vets are sitting in Dresden, eating Pizza Hut, drinking raspberry lemonade, talking about wifi."

"Dresden?" Bucky asked. "No -- Ferentari. This is the Ferentari ghetto." And Steve suddenly realized what other people must’ve felt when he didn't get modern day references.

"It's an analogy, a metaphor," he explained. "Dresden was a city bombed out of existence during the war."

Bucky puzzled over that and Steve decided that if he didn’t remember WWII, he wasn’t going to try and explain it to him.

"How are you?" he asked instead. Bucky looked at him like he was surprised or thought it was an odd question.

"I keep busy."

"Yeah, I guess you do,” Steve said, then asked, “You didn’t think I’d come?” He wondered if Bucky was even hearing the questions when he still didn’t answer.

Bucky set his slice of pizza aside and pulled a small leather kit from his jacket pocket, rested his left hand palm up on the table, rolled up his shirt sleeve, and took two small screwdrivers from the kit. 

Relaxing the plates of his arm and using the smaller of the two screwdrivers, he removed three plates across his wrist. Holding both screwdrivers in his right hand, he set the smaller screwdriver in place in his arm, held it there by wrapping his pinky and ring finger around it, and then used his thumb and forefinger to manipulate the bigger screwdriver next to the first.

"I can help you with that," Steve offered.

"You know how to fix 11th generation, weapons-grade, cybernetic prosthetics?" 

"No. But I can hold a screw driver in place."

Bucky shook his head, “No,” and bent down to his work again. "But -- thank you.”

"What's wrong with it?"

"Got twisted out of shape this morning."

"What were you doing that it got twisted out of shape?" Steve asked. He expected to hear reports of bombs, attacks, combat. Bucky's mouth twitched as he kept his attention on his repairs.

"Oină."

"Oină?" Steve’s translator had no answer for that.

"Like stick-ball. The boys play."

Steve found himself grinning. "Stick-ball? Really? You find that when you were looking me up on the internet?"

At first Steve thought Bucky wasn’t going to answer that either, but finally he said, "Found a lot of things."

“And you were playing with the boys?”

Bucky shrugged and kept his eyes on his work.

“Grigore seems...nice,” Steve tried then.

“Autoritar,” Bucky muttered, _bossy,_ then he glanced up at Steve. “Bossy. He’s bossy.”

“Ah.”

After a few minutes of working on his arm, Bucky said, quietly, “I tried to kill you. The last time you saw me, I was trying to kill you.”

“The last time I saw you, you were saving my life,” Steve said. Bucky looked up at him in surprise and Steve asked, “You don’t remember that?”

Different emotions crossed Bucky’s face, sadness, embarrassment, gratitude, but he didn’t say anything.

“You know, Buck, if you want me to hear what you’re saying, you have to actually say it out loud.”

“I remember,” Bucky finally answered.

“And you still thought I wouldn’t come.”

Bucky reattached the plates on his wrist, rolled up his tools and put them back into his jacket pocket. “I haven’t gotten a lot of what I wanted in a long time.”

Steve smiled at the sentiment hidden in that statement; maybe Bucky hadn’t believed he’d come, but he’d wanted Steve to come.

“How long have you been here?”

“A month. Thirty seven days. In Ferentari. In Bucharest, a little while longer than that.”

“How did you end up here?”

And Bucky didn’t answer.

The apartment door opened and Grigore stepped into the room again. “Old Steve, would you come see my little brother? He is all day talking about Captain America. He no can think about anything but meeting you.”

Steve didn’t want to be rude and not go see the boy, but he didn’t want to leave Bucky. He was going to suggest that the little brother come to them but Bucky cut in, “El este de la școală deja?” he asked with what was clearly a disbelieving expression. _He_ _’_ _s home from school already?_

Grigore looked from Steve to Bucky and back to Steve. He shrugged. “He is home soon from school. He is on his way. If you are there when he comes in, I think he scream his head off from surprise. You come, yes? You come over here?” 

He sounded anxious and Bucky was still giving him a narrowed glare so something was up but then Bucky nodded to Steve.

“His little brother likes to pretend he’s Captain America. He’s -- he’d like to meet you.”

Yeah, something was going on.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Haven’t finished my pizza.”

“Yeah, and I want to hear what else you found out about me on the internet.”

“Somebody thinks a lot of himself...” Bucky muttered and despite not really knowing what the hell was going on, Steve grinned to hear something of the Bucky he remembered coming out in that remark.

“All right. I’ll be back.”

He followed Grigore across the hallway to the other apartment. It was a larger version of Bucky’s ‘home’, with a separate kitchen and front room and, Steve assumed, bedrooms. 

“Where are your brothers with all the pizza?”

“Oh, they are not my brothers. They are boys from the building, from the neighborhood. They come here only for afternoon. From school until their parents are home from work. I am here in the afternoon or my mother is, so is safe place for them to come.”

“And sometimes you play ‘oină?’ Steve asked. Grigore’s face lit up with delight.

“Stingher told you? Yes! We play before school sometimes. Sometimes after. Stingher, he fell this morning and his hand, it go the wrong way.” He demonstrated, twisting his left hand around. “I think he was nerăbdător, _anxious_ , that you would be here today, so that he no was paying attention. You know? Because he is washed up, today. He is clean clothes. He is not standing in one place any long time. It is good you come.”

“You said he doesn’t sleep?”

Grigore shrugged and gestured Steve into the kitchen. They sat at the table. One of the Pizza Hut boxes waited on the counter behind them.

“If I say he needs to sleep, he doesn’t sleep. If I say he doesn’t sleep, he must prove me wrong by sleeping. He is căpățânos. _Stubborn_. He is stubborn, yes?”

“I’m sure even I don’t know the half of it,” Steve said. “How did you meet up with him?”

“Toma, my little brother, he and my parents were in the city, and Toma, he was lost from them. Some other boys, they are făcând distracție, _making fun,_ they are making fun of him, they are not helping him. Stingher, he see this, he see they are being mean to Toma and he chase them away. Sperie, _scare_ , he scare them away. He find Mamă and Tată, and he bring Toma back to them. They are so happy, the moon is his to ask for. Yes? But he no want anything. Tată, he tell him to come here, there is apartment. Tată knows the landlord. Three days it took, but Stingher, he finally came.”

“And you adopted him?” Steve asked.

“He is --” Grigore shrugged. “He is amabil, _kind_. You know? We give him one of anything and he is to give us three of something back. You know?”

“Yeah, that sounds like Bucky.”

“He refuse at first, what we offer him, anything we offer him. He take only what Toma bring to him, but I think that is because he no can refuse Toma. Is no one can refuse Toma, yes? You’ll see. But he still -- Stingher still will take only less than he can give. He is...”

Grigore trailed off there, looking down at the table as though he was trying to think of what to say or how to say it. “Afraid? He is cautious?” But he shook his head as though those weren’t the right words. “He is no want to take advantage, yes? We tell him, Mamă and Tată tell him, we tell him, we are one here. Is no one alone, the whole building, we are watching for each other, but Stingher, he is not to take that for certain.”

“He’s been through a lot,” Steve said. “More than anyone can imagine.”

“Da.” Grigore kind of nodded, kind of shrugged. _Yes._ “My family, they survived Ceausescu. Many of them did not survive. We can imagine.”

Steve nodded. “I’ve learned about him. That was horrible.”

“Da,” Grigore said again. “You will take him with you? When you leave you will take Stingher home with you?”

Steve didn’t get to answer when they heard the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway and the door to the apartment burst open.

“Grigore!” A young voice called. “Grigore! Ai primit pizza? Unde este pizza mea? Ai mâncat toată pizza?” _Did you get pizza? Where_ _’_ _s my pizza? Did you eat all the pizza?_ And a small boy rushed into the kitchen, past the table where they were sitting, and went straight to the counter, feeling his way along until he came to where the box of pizza waited. He was ten or eleven, Steve thought.

“Toma! Toma! Aștepta! Am o surpriza pentru tine! Ghici cine e aici!” Grigore said. _Wait! I have a surprise for you! Guess who is here!_

With the pizza box already open and reaching a hand inside, the little boy stopped and turned around. “Cine? Unchiul Sebastian?” _Who? Uncle Sebastian?_ His eyes were cloudy and looking up at an odd angle, and Steve realized that he was blind.

“Nu, este Captain America!” _No, it_ _’_ _s Captain America!_

Toma glared in the close proximity of where his brother was sitting. “Crezi că am o țiglă în vrac, Grigore?” _Do you think I have a tile loose, Grigore?_

“Este adevărat, Toma. Captain America este chiar aici.” _It_ _’_ _s true, Toma. Captain America is right here._  Grigore looked at Steve with a worried, frustrated expression. “Will you say ‘hello’ to my little brother so he knows I am not selling him doughnuts?”

“Hello, Toma,” Steve said, wondering if the little boy would understand him in English. “I’m Steve Rog--”

That’s as far as Steve got as Toma’s mouth fell open in pure astonishment and delight. He let out the most ear-piercing squeal Steve had ever heard and danced in place, foot to foot, then he bounced and squirmed and pressed his fists to his mouth and squealed again and hurried back out of the apartment, pushing past a woman who was walking in.

Steve turned to Grigore, who was grinning. “Was that a success, then?” Steve asked.

“Oh, yes. Very much a success.”

“Where did he go?”

“Across the hall,” the woman said. “To James’s apartment.”

“Mamă! This is Steve. Old Steve. Steve, this is my Mamă. My not-old Mamă. Constanta Fumar.”

“Ma’am.” Steve stood up to greet her. “Steve Rogers. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It is nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers. My Toma does not stop talking about you all day and night.”

Steve was going to apologize even though she was smiling as she said it, but he was interrupted by the loud exclamations of Toma coming back into the apartment, dragging a reluctant Bucky by his metal arm.

“El a venit! El este aici! Steve e aici! Trebuie să vii să-l vezi! James! James! Steve a venit! El este aici! Vino, vino, vino cu mine! Repede! Steve e aici!” _He came! He's here! Steve is here! You must come see him! James! James! Steve came! He's here! Come, come, come with me! Quickly! Steve is here!_

Bucky was obviously dragging his feet, looking none-too-happy at his kidnapping, but he came with, only softly admonishing Toma.

“Ușor, Toma, ușor. Vin. Știu că e aici. Fii blând cu mâna mea. Vă rog.” _Gently, Toma, gently. I'm coming. I know he's here. Be gentle with my hand. Please._

Toma was grinning and dragging and feeling his way into the kitchen until finally his outstretched hand collided with Steve.

“Steve! L-am adus! Aici este James! A fost de așteptare pentru tine! El este cel mai bun prieten! Îți amintești de el? Ți-l amintești, nu-i așa? A fost de așteptare pentru tine! Eu l-am adus la tine!” _I brought him! Here is James! He's been waiting for you! He's your best friend! Do you remember him? You remember him, don't you? He's been waiting for you! I've brought him to you!_

Bucky’s face was set in a scowl that looked a little fearful as he turned to Toma’s mother.

“Scuzele mele, d-nă Fumar. N-am vrut să izbucnească în casa ta.” _I_ _’_ _m sorry, Mrs. Fumar. I didn_ _’_ _t mean to burst into your home._ He pulled his hand from Toma’s and spoke gently. “Toma, lasă-mă să mă întorc. Știu că Steve e aici. Iti petreci timpul cu el. Ai vrut să-l întâlnească. El vrea să vorbească cu tine. Lasă-mă să plec.” _Let me go back. I know Steve's here. You spend time with him. You wanted to meet him. He wants to talk with you. Let me go._

Then with a fast glance and guilty look at no one in particular, he slipped out of the apartment and closed the door.

Toma reached out into the empty air. “James? Vino înapoi. Unde ai plecat?” _Come back. Where did you go?_ Feeling his way, he left the apartment as well.

Steve looked at Grigore and his mother. “What just happened?”

Mrs. Fumar sighed. “That is the first time James has set foot into our home.” 

“And the last, I am thinking,” Grigore added. “Only because it was Toma he came this far this time.”

“Should somebody go see what’s going on?” Steve asked.

“Toma is talking Stingher’s ear off,” Grigore said.

His mother tutted, “His name is James.”

Grigore rolled his eyes. “James. Every day Toma is talking his ear off.”

“Your Tată will be home soon, make sure there is pizza for him,” his mother said and left Steve and Grigore alone in the kitchen.

“So, you will take Stingher — James – home with you?” Grigore asked again.

“I’d like nothing better,” Steve told him. “I just have to get him to agree.”

The apartment door opened again and a man who Steve assumed was Grigore’s father walked in. He was broad and grim-looking, with gray hair and dark rimmed square glasses, dressed in short shirtsleeves and a thin black tie.

“Tată,” Grigore greeted him. He pulled a chair out for him and Mr. Fumar sat down, looking tired and cross.

“Tată, this is Steve, Stingher’s friend. Steve, my father.”

“Mr. Fumar,” Steve greeted him. He was going to offer his hand, but Mr. Fumar waved his own hand tiredly, as though he knew the handshake was coming and it wasn’t needed. Grigore put a slice of pizza on a plate and set it in front of his father, then a cup of coffee and a paper napkin. His father nodded and grunted what was probably a thank you and began to eat.

After a few bites of pizza, Mr. Fumar asked Steve, “You will take him with you? James?” His voice was rough and no nonsense.

“I hope so,” Steve said. “I hope he’ll come with me.”

“And if he doesn’t? If he would stay here, what will you do?” He wiped his fingers on the napkin and accepted a second slice of pizza from Grigore.

“Stay with him.” 

Mr. Fumar shook his head. “Here you would put a bulls-eye on him as big as your shield. What is he to you?”

“He’s my friend.”

Mr. Fumar shook his head again and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “That’s what he was. What is he now?”

“He’s still my friend. He’ll always be my friend.”

“Hmm...” Mr. Fumar began to eat his second slice of pizza. “And if he goes with you -- what happens to him then?”

Steve was confused and not a little annoyed at the line of questioning but he remained polite.

“If he comes home with me, then he comes _home_ with me. Any help he needs, I’ll get for him. Anything he needs, I’ll get for him.”

Mr. Fumar grunted again, a non-committal noise, and gestured to Grigore that he wanted more coffee. Grigore poured more then his father said, “I need to talk to Captain Rogers alone.”

Grigore gave a fast look to Steve, but didn’t argue. When he was gone out of the room, Mr. Fumar pushed his plate aside and leaned his arms on the table.

“James is not invisible. He will never be invisible. You can protect him?”

“I can.”

“And if he does not want to be protected?”

“Then I face the danger with him.”

“Hmm...”

“I don’t mean to be impolite, Mr. Fumar,” Steve finally said. “But why are you asking me all these questions?”

Mr. Fumar sighed, pushed his glasses higher, and sat back in his chair.

“I was in the Revolution in ‘89. You’ve heard of it? Read of it? We lost many. My wife’s father and I were in it. He died, my brother died, our friends died. It was a terrible victory. You understand? When it was over, we had nothing, no one left. I married Constanta and we lost two babies after Grigore. Then Toma comes too early and is blind for all of his life. Last month in the city he was lost from us and maybe could have died. If I lost him, if I lost either of my sons, I would lose myself. You understand? My children, my babies, they are my life. But James, he doesn’t know this when he sees Toma, he only knows Toma is lost and he brings him back to us. No questions. No reward. Only to make right something he knew was wrong.”

Steve nodded and swallowed down the lump that Mr. Fumar’s story put in his throat. “Bucky’s a good man.”

“But not always he was allowed to be that good man, was he?” Mr. Fumar asked. “I know the man James used to be. Both men he used to be. My father, he knew of you from the war, the Great War. He told us, my brother and me, he told us stories of you. Stories of how much a man could accomplish when he refused to kneel to fear. He knew also of James, of your friend who died because he protected you.

“After Washington, after all that information is released, I know the Winter Soldier is James, is Bucky. I know he is hunted for that. I know he is hated for that. And also I know how it is he was that way.”

“You do?” 

“Torture --” Mr. Fumar said the word with a shrug. “It is not always the stranger we wish it was. I know that. Too many of us know that. But what I know more is that James gave me my Toma back without reason to. He saved my son, and the man who saves my son saves me and I don’t let him go so easy without I know where he goes and what he goes to and who he goes with. You understand? The man he used to be -- he is not that man anymore, I know that. But I think no one else knows that.” He turned back to his coffee. “I think not even James knows that.”

Steve felt tears in his eyes and it took him a moment to find his voice. “I know who he is. He might not be the Bucky I knew seventy years ago, but I know he’s not that man they made him into. I lost him during the war and I lost him in Washington and I can’t lose him again. I’ll do whatever I have to to keep him safe.”

Mr. Fumar tugged his tie loose and nodded to the door. “If you need me to talk to him, I will come. But I think he will listen to you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fumar.” 

Steve went back across the hall and found Bucky sitting at the kitchen table, paying close attention to Toma who was in Steve’s chair, talking and eating pizza and drinking Bucky’s lemonade all at the same time.

“Și apoi a spus, ‘vehiculul meu pe pernă de aer e plin de pizza’!” Toma said and laughed, _and then he said, my hovercraft is full of pizza!_

Bucky laughed, too, “Vreau o pernă de aer plin de pizza!” _I want a hovercraft full of pizza!_

“Și turtă dulce!” _and gingerbread_! 

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked at Steve and his laugh faded, as though he was ashamed at having been caught. Toma turned in his chair in the general direction of the door.

“Steve! Vrei să auzi o glumă?” _Do you want to hear a joke?_

“Nu acum, Toma,” Bucky said. “Trebuie să vorbesc cu Steve.” _Not now, Toma. I need to talk to Steve._

“Bine!” _Okay!_ Toma said, then, taking Bucky’s lemonade with him, felt his way from the table to the door. Steve stepped aside but Toma stopped briefly and looked up, nowhere near where Steve’s eyes were. “Goodbye, Steve!” he enunciated carefully and then was gone across the hall and into his own apartment.

“He’s a happy kid,” Steve said. He shut the door and took his chair at the table again.

“He’s real happy to meet you, meet his hero.”

“Pretty sure I’m not his hero,” Steve answered.

Bucky shrugged and started pulling together the trash on the table. “So -- when are you leaving?” 

“When are you kicking me out?”

“What?”

This time it was Steve who shrugged. “I’m not leaving until you kick me out. Or until you come with me.”

Bucky gave him a glance and kept gathering the trash and pushed it into the carry box still sitting on the floor. “I can’t go back there. You can’t stay here,” he said.

“Why did you send me the message?”

"Why did you come?"

“I wanted to see you. I wanted to know you’re all right.”

Bucky turned to the counter, keeping his back to Steve. “Has Toma asked to see your shield?”

“Bucky -- come on. Why did you send me the message?"

“I didn’t.”

Steve was confused. “Who did?” Bucky didn’t answer so Steve asked the next obvious question “Why _didn_ _’_ _t_ you send the message? _Any_ message? It’s been two years. Why didn’t you let me know where you were?”

Bucky hesitated then turned toward Steve. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Of course I’d come. You know that. You have to know that.” Steve waited but Bucky didn’t answer. “Do you remember me at all?”

There was silence for a long minute. “I remember you,” Bucky finally said. He took his chair again. “I remember stick-ball. I remember how it took all night to cook oatmeal. I remember the overflow pan under the icebox overflowing if I didn’t empty it often enough as the ice melted. I remember Pop getting up before the rest of us to start the fire in the coal furnace so that the house was warm before we had to get out of bed in the morning. I remember everything.” He nodded. “I remember you.”

“Then why didn’t you let me know where you were?”

“I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Do what? Let me know my best friend is alive and okay?”

“I couldn’t make you responsible for me. For what I am. What I was. What I’ve become. I remember everything. I couldn’t ask you to become part of that.”

“I want to be part of that. If you remember me, you have to know that.” Steve said. Another long pause hung between them. “Who sent me the message?”

“Mr. Fumar. Grigore’s father. He sent it. I didn’t know he was sending it. He only told me this morning.”

“Did he say why he sent it?”

“Because he doesn’t believe in coincidences.”

“Which means what?” 

“It means what are the chances of me, hiding in Bucharest, meeting up with the world’s biggest Captain America fan? He said that couldn’t be a coincidence.”

“How did he know how to contact me?”

Bucky’s mouth twitched and it almost looked like a smile. “Some things, I don’t ask.”

Steve decided on the direct approach. “Do you want to come home with me?”

“Back to more confinement? More people inside my head?”

“It wouldn’t be that way.”

Bucky shook his head. “It has to be that way. I’m still dangerous. The Winter Soldier is still inside me.”

“We’ll get you help, not confinement.”

“You know what I’m capable of.”

“Yeah, I do. You’re capable of saving Toma and making friends with him and his family. You’re capable of making Mr. Fumar protective of you. You’re capable of two years of _nothing_ happening. That’s what you’re capable of.”

The apartment door burst open and slammed shut as Toma rushed in again and hurried to Bucky, stopping only when he made contact with him.

“James! Tata mi-a spus să aflu dacă te duci acasă doar mama mi-a spus să nu vă anunțăm că sa aflu, așa că te duci acasă cu Steve?” _Tata told me to find out if you_ _’_ _re going home only Mama told me to not let you know I was finding out, so are you going home with Steve?_

Bucky looked from Toma to Steve. “Nu știu.” _I don_ _’_ _t know._

Toma stood back. He patted his hands on Bucky’s face.

“Tatal va fi dor, dar cel puțin a ajuns să se întâlnească Captain America. N-am mai văzut atât de entuziasmat! Ai?” _Daddy will miss you if you do, but at least he got to meet Captain America. I_ _’_ _ve never seen him so excited! Have you?_

“Dacă nu mă mai văd.” _I haven_ _’_ _t seen him today._

“O să-l!” Toma said, _I_ _’_ _ll get him!_ and hurried out of the apartment.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

Bucky stared after Toma, staring at the closed door, then he turned his gaze to Steve. “He’s going to get his father.”

“Why?”

“Because he can’t sit still?”

“He’s very devoted to you, isn’t he?”  

Bucky frowned and scrubbed again at nothing on the table. “He doesn’t know everything I am.”

“Seems to me he knows who you _really_ are. Even more than _you_ know. Or more than you want to admit.”

That comment ended in another long pause, until Bucky asked, “When you first came out of the ice, did you know who you were?”

“I wasn’t entirely sure who I was _before_ I went into the ice.”

“You always knew who you were.”

“Until you weren’t there to remind me.”

Bucky shook his head. “You didn’t need to be reminded. You didn’t change. You never changed.”

“After I lost you, I changed.”

The apartment door banged open and closed and Toma charged in again.

“Tati e la telefon. Mami a spus că va veni imediat ce a făcut. Te-ai decis încă?” _Daddy is on the phone. Mommy said he_ _’_ _ll come over when he_ _’_ _s done. Have you decided yet_?

“Nu. Nu inca.” _No. Not yet_.

“Ce vei face când vei ajunge în America?” _What will you do when you get to America?_

“Nu știu.” _I don_ _’_ _t know._

“Vei fi bine. Steve va avea grijă de tine.” _You_ _’_ _ll be okay. Steve will take care of you._

Bucky glanced at Steve. “Da, știu că o va face.” _Yeah, I know he will._

Toma turned so he was leaning against Bucky’s arm. “Vrei să-mi trimite Captain America cărți de benzi desenate?” _Will you send me Captain America comic books?_

“Bineinteles ca o sa.” _Of course I will._

“Multi?” _Lots of them?_

“Da, multe dintre ele,” Bucky said with a chuckle. _Yes, lots of them._

Mr. Fumar came in then. Bucky stood up to let him have his chair and when he was sitting, Toma inveigled himself onto his lap. Bucky leaned against the arm of the sofa, behind Steve.

“You have decided?” Mr. Fumar asked Bucky. “You’ll go with Steve?”

“No, I haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s nothing to be decided lightly,” Mr. Fumar agreed. “It is also nothing that needs to be decided immediately. We are going nowhere, your apartment is going nowhere. Captain Rogers is surely going nowhere.” Mr. Fumar rubbed a hand over Toma’s head. “But is not just today or tomorrow to think about, yes? Is not just the first step you take to where you are going, is what you want when you stop.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know how to decide,” he said. “I don’t know what I want.”

“You know what you want,” Mr. Fumar said. He slid Toma to his feet and stood up. “I think what it is you don’t know is that you’re allowed to want it. That takes its own time as well.” He took Toma’s hand and they left the apartment.

Bucky sat in his chair at the table and stared at his hands balled into fists on top of it.

“How did you change?” he asked. “After – after I wasn’t there anymore. How did you change?”

“I got reckless.”

That made Bucky look up. “I thought you said you _changed._ ”

Steve had to chuckle at that. “ _More_ reckless, then. If you can imagine that.”

“No, honestly, I don’t think I can,” Bucky said. He almost smiled. Then he stared at the table and scrubbed at it with his metal hand. His eyes flicked up to Steve and down again. “I’ve had nothing for so long, I don’t know how to want anything else.”

“Buck,” Steve leaned forward, every memory and instinct making him want to reach out and comfort Bucky, but as soon as he moved Bucky flinched away and Steve sat back. “You wanted me to come here, to be here. You wanted that.”

It took a long moment, then Bucky nodded. “I wanted that,” he said.

“You wanted to know what kind of pizza I like,” Steve continued and Bucky’s mouth twitched again in that almost-smile. “You want -- you always wanted -- to keep me safe.”

Bucky swallowed and looked up and around the room. He looked not quite at Steve and back down to the table. He started to shake his head and Steve cut him off.

“Yes, you always wanted to keep me safe. _You_. You want that now. Don’t you?”

Bucky nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you trust me to take care of you? To protect you?”

“Yes.”

“Then Bucky --” Steve leaned closer again. “Do you want to come home with me?”

Bucky’s metal hand whirred into a fist and his flesh hand spread out flat, pressed down onto the table top. His breath came fast and heavy, lifting his shoulders, loud in the little room.

“Yes,” he said. “Whatever else happens because of it, yes, I want to come home with you.”

Steve grinned at first then forced it down when he realized Bucky wasn’t feeling the same elation; he wasn’t happy, he was terrified.

“Before we take one step out of here,” Steve said, “I’ll make sure what we’ll be walking into back home. All right? If you’re not safe, 100% safe, we don’t move.”

Bucky nodded, then nodded again. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Steve echoed. He felt like twenty tons of stress had been lifted from his shoulders. “I need to make some phone calls and get things started. If everything’s okay, we can be out of here tonight.”

There was a long pause. “Tonight,” Bucky said, but Steve heard a question.

“Whenever you’re ready. We still have to get through the preliminaries. After that, only when you’re ready.”

Bucky kind of nodded, lifting his chin but not his eyes.

“Of course,” Steve said, “I don’t know who’s going to miss you more, Toma or Grigore...or Mr. Fumar.” Bucky laughed out loud and Steve was happy to hear it, even though Bucky seemed surprised. “All right, then, I’m going to go make a couple of phone calls. I’ll be right back.”

He went into the hallway, pulled out his phone and dialed Sam.

“Hey, Cap. So – your boy’s coming home?”

“Yeah, if I can be sure he’s not going to end up imprisoned in any way once he gets there.”

“Nah, he’s cool. I just got off the phone with Hill. There’s a nice, new, safe-house waiting for you, and a plane ready whenever we are to take us in nice and quiet.”

“Wait – you talked to Hill?”

“Yeah, she’s got everything set up. Say the word and we’re out of here.”

“How did you --” As Steve was asking the question, Toma burst out of his apartment, bumped into Steve and fell back with a shout, hitting his head on the floor. “I’m gonna have to call you back, Sam. Okay?” Steve said. “I’ll just – let me call you back.”

He put away his phone and crouched next to Toma who was sitting up, rubbing the back of his head. “Hey, you all right? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be in your way. Are you okay?”

Toma shook his head like he was shaking cobwebs away. He laughed, “Nu știam că ești acolo!” _I didn_ _’_ _t know you were there!_ He felt for Steve and used him to push himself to his feet.

The door to Bucky’s apartment opened and Bucky looked out. “What happened? Toma? Are you all right?”

Toma stood still a moment, then rushed forward until he collided with Bucky and threw his arms around him.

“O să-mi fie dor de tine!” _I'm going to miss you!_

Bucky’s eyes widened and he held his hands up and away from Toma. “De unde ai știut că plec?” _How did you know I_ _’_ _m going_?

“L-am auzit pe tati vorbind despre asta.” _I heard Daddy talking about it._

Bucky gave Toma an awkward hug, then asked Steve, “Did you get your phone calls made?”

“We’re all set. A secure plane back to the states, a secure safe-house once we’re there.”

“No prison? No asylum?”

“No. None.”

Bucky swallowed hard and looked from Steve to Toma still clinging to him, and back to Steve. “I can go home?”

“You can go home, Buck. Whenever you’re ready. You can go home.”

“I – I’m ready. I think I’m ready.” He put his flesh hand on Toma’s head and leaned down to him. “Ma duc acasa.” _I_ _’_ _m going home._

Toma shouted “O să-i spun mamei și tatei!” _I_ _’_ _ll tell Mommy & Daddy!_ and ran back into his apartment, leaving Bucky with empty arms and a shocked look on his face.

“I’m going home,” he repeated to the space where Toma was no longer standing. “I’m going home.”

Steve had to work to not react as boisterously as Toma. “Are you ready to go now? I’ll call Sam to come pick us up.”

Bucky looked like he had no clue what Steve was saying. “Now? Yeah, I – yeah. I just need to bring – I have to get – “

He went back into his apartment and when Steve followed him, Bucky was on his knees next to the kitchen table, pulling up floor boards and taking a backpack out from the space underneath.

“What’s that?” Steve asked.

“Everything I don’t want to leave behind.” He replaced the boards but didn’t stand up. He looked around the apartment.

“Buck? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just – this was longest I stayed anywhere. Since Washington, this is the longest I spent anywhere not in deep cover. It’s not a bad place, you know?” He smiled, almost. “I wasn’t – _unhappy._ ”

Steve crouched next to him. “We don’t have to leave yet. Not right now. Not today. Not until you’re ready. Say the word, I’ll let Sam know.”

“I’m ready. I’m _almost_ ready. I don’t know how not to hide, I guess.” He looked at Steve and nodded. “I’ll be ready when he gets here.”

“You sure? All right, I’ll call him. You probably want to say your goodbyes.”

“I – yeah, I should – I’ll – yeah.” Bucky stood up. He put his jacket, hat and gloves back on, slid his backpack over his shoulders and walked out of the apartment like he was afraid of tripping a wire. Steve watched him go then dialed Sam.

“Okay, so you’re ready?” Sam asked as soon as he picked up. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Out back, right?”

“Yeah – wait – how’d you know we were getting ready to leave?”

“Hill told me.”

“Bucky only just made up his mind.”

“What can I tell you, man? Maybe she’s psychic. All I know is I’m halfway there. I’ll meet you out back.”

Steve hung up, wondering if Hill had bugged him or something. He went out to the hall where Bucky stood in front of the Fumars’ apartment door, hand lifted to knock, but he wasn’t knocking.

“Bucky? You all right?”

“I knew I couldn’t stay here forever. It was just the first -- it almost felt like -- _home_ – “ his voice shook on the word. “The memories I have, from all the way back when I joined the Army, to these last two years, all I remember is moving. Moving. Hiding. Fighting.” He swallowed hard. “ _Killing._ _”_ He shook his head. “I should just go. We should – this isn’t – they won’t want to –“

The door opened suddenly and Grigore was there. “Stingher! I was coming to see you. You are leaving? Toma is saying something that you are leaving but it is too fast for me to keep up. You are going, now?”

“I – uh – yeah. Yeah, Steve’s friend is going to pick us up and – yeah.”

“I am happy for you!” Grigore said. “Sad for us, but happy for you.” He hugged Bucky, and the same as when Toma hugged him, Bucky lifted his hands away from Grigore with a shocked look on his face, but after a moment, he tentatively responded, putting his arms around him and patting his back exactly twice.

Grigore stepped back. “You are happy, yes? You go home, you are home with Old Steve, you are happy?” When Bucky didn’t answer, Grigore’s expression narrowed. “If no, then you stay. Is simple. Old Steve? Is simple, yes? Stingher stay, you stay. We eat pizza every day. Simple.”

Steve knew it wasn’t that simple, but he nodded. “Whatever Bucky wants to do, I’m in.”

Bucky looked at Steve and smiled, almost, and turned back to Grigore. “I wanted to say goodbye. If your Mom and Dad are – if they wanted to – “

“Of course! Of course they are wanting to say goodbye! You come in? You no come in? You come in, yes? No? You no come in? You wait. I get them. You wait.”

Then he was gone again, leaving the door open, leaving Bucky with yet another shocked look on his face.

“I think I know where Toma gets it from, now,” Steve said.  

In a moment, Toma ran out the door so fast he ran into Bucky and bounced back a step. He was talking so fast Steve’s translation bug couldn’t keep up. Soon Mrs. Fumar was there, and Grigore again.

Mr. Fumar pushed past them and stood next to Steve. “Everything is ready? James will be safe?”

“He’ll be safe. Everything is being set up by people I trust.” Steve looked where Toma, Grigore and Mrs. Fumar surrounded Bucky, all talking to him at once. “Bucky told me you sent the text that brought me here, Mr. Fumar. Thank you. For that and for helping me convince him to come home.”

“No, I did not convince. His mind was made up. He only needed to know he was allowed. After so much torture, it is hard for a man to remember freedom, to remember he is allowed it. To remember he _is_ a man.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience,” Steve said.

Mr. Fumar shrugged. “The past is a dark fire I no longer look at. Now I only look at my family.”

“I understand.”

Bucky turned toward Steve, Toma clinging to his metal hand. “Should we be getting outside?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

There was a pause and then Bucky nodded. “I’m ready.”

Mr. Fumar led the way down the metal staircase, Bucky and Toma followed, with Steve and Mrs. Fumar behind and Grigore the last. As they stepped outside, Sam was just pulling up to the curb and Bucky stopped walking.

Toma tugged on Bucky’s hand, “De ce te-ai oprit? Esti bine?” _Why did you stop? Are you okay?_

Bucky stared at the car and swallowed hard. He nodded. “Da. Da, sunt bine.” _Yes. Yes, I_ _’_ _m okay,_ but he didn’t take another step.

“Let me make sure everything’s ready,” Steve offered and walked over as Sam got out of the car.

“That’s the Winter Soldier?” Sam asked, nodding at Bucky in his layers and baseball cap and backpack clipped securely across his chest. “He looks like an orphan on his first day of Kindergarten.”

“ _Sam_...”

“I’m just saying. He doesn’t look like the killing machine I see in my nightmares.”

“Because he’s not.”

Sam hmpf’d and raised an eyebrow but didn’t dispute Steve.

After that, it was a matter of Bucky finishing his goodbyes to the Fumars, Mrs. Fumar squeezing his hands and Grigore smiling broadly and saying something that made Bucky smile, and Toma hanging onto Bucky’s hand, tugging and talking non-stop, until Mr. Fumar clapped his hands, “Suficient, destul. Lasă James să-și înceapă călătoria acasă.”  _Enough, enough. Let James begin his journey home._

The other Fumars stepped back and Mr. Fumar stood before Bucky. He nodded and gestured Bucky to come closer. “Da, vino, vino. Este correct,” _Yes, come, come. It_ _’_ _s right,_ and then he hugged Bucky. After a moment, Bucky closed his eyes and hugged him back.

Steve turned to Sam, “He’s _not,_ ” he said again.

Sam tipped his head in dispute. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”

Steve raised an eyebrow back at Sam. “So, everything’s ready?” he asked.

“Plane’s fueling up as we speak. About twenty hours back to D.C., then an hour drive to the safe-house, and two years of _needle meet haystack_ finally comes to an end.”

“I’m just glad to have him back with me,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Sam agreed, softly.

Mr. Fumar release Bucky. Toma was still close by and Bucky crouched down and hugged him. “Îmi va fi dor de tine. O să-ți e dor atât de mult. Nu mă uit, bine? Tu nu mă vei uita?” _I'll miss you. I'll miss you so much. Don't forget me, okay? You won't forget me?_

“De ce te-aș uita?” Toma asked. _Why would I forget you?_

“Dacă nu mă mai văd.” _If you don_ _’_ _t see me anymore._

“Ne putem skype,” Toma said in a grave voice. _We can skype._

Bucky laughed, it was sudden and loud. “Da. Ne putem skype. Bineînțeles că putem. Ori de câte ori doriți. Dacă m-au locați un computerul, l-am can skype ori de câte ori doriți.” _Yes. We can skype. Of course we can. If they let me have a computer, we can skype_ _as often as you want._ _”_

“Steve vă va permite să utilizați computerul.” _Steve will let you use his computer._

Bucky looked from Toma to Steve. “Da, sunt sigur că o va face.” _Yes, I_ _’_ _m sure he will._

Toma nodded solemnly but didn’t let go. “Dacă nu, o să-i spun că trebuie.” _If he doesn_ _’_ _t, I_ _’_ _ll tell him he has to._

“Da. O să facă tot ce-i spui. Știu că o va face.” _Yes. He'll do whatever you tell him. I know he will._

“I still don’t get how you knew to call Hill about all this,” Steve said to Sam.

“I didn’t call her. She called me. She said an old friend of Fury’s got in touch with her today, an operative from the days of the revolution. He asked her to set everything up.”

“A friend of Fury’s? Who?”

“Who knows, man? She didn’t tell me his real name. His cover name is ‘Dark Fire’. Or it was, back in the day.”

“Dark Fire?”

“Yeah. And get this -- apparently he’s the world’s biggest Captain America fan. What a coincidence, hunh?”

Steve looked at Mr. Fumar who stood with his arm around his wife, and was smiling at Grigore and Toma still saying goodbye to Bucky. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

The End

 

 

 


End file.
